


Handsome Stranger

by TheSignOfJohnlock



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Cutesy, Fluff, High School AU, M/M, Teenlock, nerdy Sherlock, popular john, sweet goof rugby captain john, teen!lock, young shy sherlock
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-06
Updated: 2016-10-13
Packaged: 2018-02-11 18:15:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,776
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2078202
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheSignOfJohnlock/pseuds/TheSignOfJohnlock
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>High school AU: Sherlock is a quiet, smart student and people aren't always nice to him, except the rugby captain, he is nice to everyone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1 Rewrite

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So, after wanting to continue this for a while, I thought it would be better if I re-wrote it, the writing style was totally thrown off whenever I tried to continue with what I wanted.
> 
> So here's John and Sherlock running into each other once again by fortunate happenstance

        'Antimony, arsenic, aluminum, selenium and hydrogen and oxygen and nitrogen and rhenium,' Sherlock thought as he briskly walked down the hall of the school holding his books tight to his chest, not sparing any attention to the other students around him, why would he anyway? It's not like they ever looked in his direction unless it was to call him names or push him out of their way. Honestly though, he almost preferred it this way, at least he knew what to expect, he'd attended Forest Green High School for almost four years now and he still didn't understand his parents' constant litany that these were the best years of his life, but at least the school had a decent chemistry lab and people for the most part left him alone, well ignored him would be more accurate, but it really didn't bother him that much, honestly.  


* * *

* * *

        'Late, late, late, late, gonna have to run laps for this,' John Watson's feet pounded a rhythm that matched the speed of his frantic thoughts and his duffle bag hit an offbeat pattern into his stomach and back. Being the captain of the school's rugby team was a big deal, he'd been working toward since he moved here his Sophomore year, being a Senior now, this was his last year to attract the attentions of the scouts so that he could get the scholarship he needed to go to medical school, and here he was, late. He tore around the corner, two more halls and he'd be there, 'faster Watson, you've got about thirty seconds before Coach Stevens stands up from his desk in his dimly lit office in the locker room and calls the team out to the pitch, you can do thi-' his face made painful contact with a hard shoulder, the collision catching him completely off guard, knocking him and his unidentified victim to the ground, papers flying everywhere. When the spots began to clear from his eyes he heard a murmured curse and saw a blurry figure standing up dusting off his uniform, not even looking up to see who sent him crashing to the ground, instead he began to collect the scattered papers and books, John scrambled to his feet to help,  
       “I’m so sorry,” he began smiling apologetically, “I was on my way to rugby, I was in such a hurry, guess I didn’t see you” he explains quickly while he continues to gather the strewn about results of their crash and passes them into the other boy’s hands.

        “I-it’s quite alright,” the tall stranger stammers quietly in response, “you wouldn’t be the first to disregard my existence here” John’s smile fell,

        “That’s not what I meant at all,” he looked up and was shocked to see what he thought completely conflicted with the boy’s statement. How could anyone miss him? His inky dark curls fell in swirls from the top of his head almost reaching his almost quicksilver eyes, the striking color and intensity throwing him off as he tried to pin down the exact color, not blue, not green, but a color he’d never seen before, the perfect combination of the two with a stormy haze floating in the iris. 

Taking entirely too long to finish his sentence, John closed his gaping mouth and cleared his throat, I just mean that I wasn’t paying attention.” the guilt clear in his voice and not just from knocking him down, then he couldn’t help adding, “How could anyone miss you anyway? I’d say you were positively unique.” feeling the heat coming to his cheeks, his question giving him the opportunity to look up and down the tall, lean figure with his almost porcelain skin towered over him, but in a way that was striking rather than intimidating. His standard issue school uniform definitely fit him better than John’s own, almost as if it had been tailored to follow the sharp curve of his hips up his straight, flat torso, to his broad shoulders which held his obscenely long expanse of milky skinned neck; his sharp cheekbones pulled up high on his face, giving him a dignified, but almost faye-like appearance. 

Once again, John Watson was staring. He realized then through this lovely stranger’s confused expression that they had finished picking up all of the things that had fallen long ago and now they stood awkwardly in the hall, John staring at him unabashedly and the other boy clearly getting uncomfortable. John’s blush deepened clearing his throat again and pulling his posture to his full height, just barely reaching that shoulder that he had run into what seemed like hours ago. The awkward moment carried on between the two for a few more silent seconds.

        Sherlock’s heart was racing, a rugby player, not just any rugby player, but the newly appointed captain himself had run him over in the hallway, normally people of his crowd wouldn’t have given him even a passing glance as they continued on their way and he was left to pick up the mess and taper his frustration alone. The captain though, it seemed, was different. Not only did he apologize, he had gotten down on his hands and knees to help Sherlock gather the things that had fallen. Then he had said that _thing_ , not that he was a freak, like a lot of his friends seemed to think, but that he was unique. Sherlock’s brain didn’t give him the chance to analyze the comment, the jolt of realization that struck him at that moment went right to his frontal lobe and completely short circuited his primary functions, he was reduced to a gawking mess while it almost seemed like the impossible was happening. _...was this boy checking him out?_ Impossible. He is just being nice or something, courteous, that’s it. The only reason it seemed odd to Sherlock is because people aren't generally nice to him at all. 

The captain may not have been like the other horrible people that peppered the rugby team, but there was no way he could be interested in the school freak. The heat pooling in his cheeks and almost immediately after the moment started, it ended with the short boy clearing his throat. It took him a minute, but Sherlock finally put him out of his misery,  


        “Well, umm, I mean, thank you for helping me pick up my things,” he stammered ridiculously and pulled his papers and books to his chest, a pink tint coloring his sharp cheekbones, “that was, ummm, that was, good.”

        “Oh, don’t be silly,” the captain remarked, “I knocked them out of your hands,” that bright smile that Sherlock liked entirely too much to be healthy was back again and he almost lost himself in it, “tell you what,” he added, “how about," he paused for some reason and licked his lips, which threw Sherlock further as he attempted to commit the image to memory "how about, I walk you to your next class? That is, if that’s alright?”

        “W-what?” Sherlock looked at the boy with what he knew must have been a ridiculous look of incredulousness,

        “Cute and hard of hearing, eh?” Sherlock’s brain vibrated when he noticed the way the boy’s eyes sparkled as he smirked at Sherlock, “I said,” he spoke clearly, “maybe to make up for knocking you down, I’d like to walk you to the class I’m making you late for,”  
        "What about your rugby practice?" Sherlock asked, still finding it hard to believe that this very friendly and _attractive_ boy just called him cute.

        "Oh, the boys can wait," the shorter boy replied with a laugh, "I'll just tell them I met a handsome stranger,” At that Sherlock felt heat rush from his toes to the tips of his ears, he should say something, anything, this boy was so smooth it seemed to come completely natural to him and Sherlock couldn’t believe he was even talking to him in the first place,  
        "Al-alright then,” he stuttered out, “it's this way," Sherlock noted in a slight haze, this boy was having an effect on him, and he kind of liked it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok so, I am going to eventually cut off the old first two chapters, once I've caught up, hope you guys like it. I definitely think it was a big improvement


	2. Text From a Stranger

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock gets a text he doesn't expect.
> 
> I don't know how far this story is going to go, I do know two things though, I can only write in short spurts and Teen!lock is so much fun!

-NEW MESSAGE-

'You're adorable you know'

Sherlock looked at his mobile confused, the text had come from an unfamilar number and Sherlock never gave his number out. The only people who had it were his annoying brother Mycroft, his mother and the Gavin boy that he was tutoring in chemistry, all of which had numbers that he saved into his phone and none of which would send him such a message(except maybe his mother, Sherlock rolled his eyes and hoped harshly otherwise). After staring at his phone for several minutes, Sherlock resolved to just answer the text,

'You should know that no matter how funny this is to you, I have no intention of spending the afternoon being anonymously mocked, so kindly find someone else to (1/2)bother, perhaps someone a little more nieve. Thank you.   
-SH'

After hitting send Sherlock shoved the offending gadget into his pocket, 'the nerve of some people, thinking he would fall for such a ridiculous ruse' he was still stewing on those thoughts when a muffled 'ping' pulled him back to the busy lunch room he was futilally trying to block out. Figuring it was just an angry response to his reply he chose to leave it right where it was and vowed to just delete it later. 

A minute later his pocket vibrated reminding him of the message, with a huff of frusteration he pulled his mobile from it's not so secure cell in his jacket and rolled his eyes dramatically as he unlocked it. The new message he received was not what he expected,

'Well, that's not usually what people say when you compliment them'

Sherlock's fingers heavily dragged across the screen with what he hoped was sarcasm that bled through into the message

'Oh? And prey tell, what do people say when a stranger sends them such a thing?  
-SH'

The response came fairly quickly.

'I don't know, 'thank you', I guess? And who says this is a stranger? I know, who you are'

'Well you see, that's the thing about strangers, both people have to know who the other is for them to be, well not strangers. Obviously  
-SH'

'I suppose your right, I'll give you a clue,'

-Picture Message-

The realization slammed into Sherlock's mind as his own handwriting loaded on the screen, it was the page of notes he had been missing last night, he blushed deep red when he realized who was at the other end of this conversation,

'The boy from yesterday? The one who walked me to calculus?  
-SH'

'Wow Greg was right, you are good, yes the very same'

'Sorry, John Watson and you are?'


	3. Lithium and Other Explosive Things

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I know it's been _foreverrrrr_ and I'm so sorry for leaving you hanging, but I got a writer's bug this evening and i wrote another chapter
> 
> Hopefully this will keep up for a bit, I love writing this story
> 
> Enjoy
> 
> As always, comments and kudos are hugely appreciated and make me want to write more xD

John had been texting Sherlock for a few days now and he noticed that Sherlock seemed withdrawn and cautious as if he were still worried that John was playing some elaborate joke on him. John, however, was determined to convince him otherwise, Sherlock was the most interesting person he'd ever met, he was witty and clever as people come and John would be damned if he let him go back into hiding. 

Sent [12:04] 'Hiya'

Received [12:05] 'Hello. -SH'

Sent [12:05] 'What are you up to?'

Received [12:06] 'Experiment -SH'

Sent [12:06] 'Oh?'

Received [12:06] 'Yes -SH'

John sighed at that, it's so hard to get Sherlock to start talking, but the few times he'd been able to were conversations that had John so wrapped in his phone he'd missed meals and ignored actual people standing in front of him trying to talk.

Sent [12:07]'What is the experiment?'

Received [12:10]'I am studying the difference between chemical explosions using alkali metal bases and water -SH'

Sent [12:11]'Wow, sounds dangerous'

Received [12:11]'Only if you're an idiot -SH'

Sent [12:12]'Are you at least wearing protective gear?'

Received [12:12]'Obviously. -SH'

Sent [12:13]'Why do I have a hard time believing that?'

Received [12:13]'You're paranoid? -SH'

Sent [12:14]'Ha bloody ha, I think it's because you can be reckless'

Received [12:16]’Don’t be ridiculous, I am perfectly careful -SH’

Sent [12:17]’I’m so sure’

Sent [12:25]’Sherlock?’

Sent [12:35]’I didn’t mean it that way’

Sent [12:40]'I’m sorry’

Sent [12:43] ‘Seriously Sherlock, are you okay?’

John stares at his mobile for another minute before pressing the little phone icon in the corner, 

-Calling Sherlock Holmes-

“You have reached Sherlock Holmes, if you have anything interesting to-” John hung up and started running for the school’s chemistry lab. As he approached the lab he noticed a distinct smell coming from beyond the closed door, a burning smell, his brain was quick to remind him that Sherlock was working with explosives and that smell would be normal. He decided to go in just in case. What he found sent a chill through his body, Sherlock, on the floor, unconscious and fumes coming up from the scorched table he’d clearly been working from. 

He ran over and grabbed his friend under his arms and dragged him to the hall. Noting that Sherlock’s definition of protective gear only consisted of some safety goggles. Once they were to the safety of the hall, John leaned down to take Sherlock’s pulse and listen to his lungs. Everything seemed okay for the most part, but after a physical inspection John noticed he had some chemical burns on his face and his hands. John rushed to the lab next to the one Sherlock had been in and dampened a flannel, grabbing the first aid kit he noticed on his way out. 

He began wiping the spots he noticed with the wet flannel. Then, with no small amount of guilt, he cut up the sleeves of Sherlock’s clearly not regulation dress shirt, the guilt quickly dissipated as he noticed there were burns there as well. As he was cleaning and dressing Sherlock’s injuries, Sherlock’s eyes began to flutter open.

“Good opportunity to practice for med school” Sherlock said in a strained mumble.

“Oh shut up! You could have seriously been injured!” John spat at him, he was still a bit frantic from the whole situation, “I don’t even know if you’ve inhaled whatever you were working with!”

“The fumes of lithium when inadvertently introduced to the human body are rarely harmful,” Sherlock explained, “As long as the body involved is removed from exposure and given fresh air and rest, which you clearly started for me” John calmed at his words, but was still irritated.

“I can’t believe you put yourself at risk like that, you could have called me to help” John knew Sherlock wouldn’t ask for help, but he wished he would. 

“As I said, I was fine and am still.” Sherlock sighed, gaining his strength back as he sat up, “Besides, why would you care? I am not your responsibility”

“My res-, Sherlock are you kidding me?!” John felt his blood boil, “I just found my _friend_ unconscious on the floor of a lab and now you tell me that you’re not my.....?” John took a breath, “How could you be so bloody stupid and clever at the same time?”

Sherlock blinked rapidly at John’s words, “F-friend?” he said almost in a whisper, “I’m your....” 

John couldn’t believe it, how could Sherlock not know they were friends? Or at least that John wanted to be, what with John texting him relentlessly for the last week. “Of course you’re my friend, what would make you think otherwise?”

Sherlock looked away from John and mumbled under his breath, “It’s just...” he trailed off, “I’ve never had a friend before” John’s heart broke into a million pieces and tumbled the short distance to the floor. Sherlock had never had a friend? How could any one pass up the opportunity to spend time with this incredible person? He resolved to make his appreciation more obvious to Sherlock, at least until his doubt in John subsided.

John stood up from the floor, reaching out towards Sherlock he smiled, “Well, you have one now, let’s get you outside for some proper fresh air before I have to carry you” Sherlock’s cheeks tinted pink at John’s words as he took his hand and John had to ignore the flip his stomach performed as a result. 

There’s no way someone as interesting as Sherlock would be interested in “boring-old John Watson”. John pulled him to his feet and stayed closed to his side as they headed to the exit.


End file.
